The Foldings of Dawn
by silver-tear-crystals
Summary: Frodo has fallen to the darkness, taken the Ring to Sauron. But all is not lost..
1. What Was

Title: The Foldings of Dawn  
  
Author: silver-tear-crystals  
  
Rating: PG -13  
  
Summary: What if Frodo gave in, took the ring to Sauron?  
  
Inspiration: I was watching LOTR again, and when Boromir was trying to take the Ring from Frodo, who put it on, Boromir yelled something like: 'You'll betray us all! You'll take the ring to Sauron!' Well, what if it happened?  
  
Disclaimer: This is not the REAL Sam, Frodo.. I made copies when no one was looking. **pouts at lawyer** Ok, Ok, JRR Tolkien owns 'em.. 'cept for Tanth'Quiel and Quira who I own. My riding school owns Fenella.  
  
NOT slash, Not romance, I'm trying to prove to myself and everyone else that male + female does not always = luv.  
  
BTW: I've used the name Tanth'Quiel before, in a story I never finished, so don't be surprised if it crops up here.  
  
One, final side note: This was written ages ago, so I apologize for any mistakes. ___________________________  
  
There was silence all around him. The river calmly lapped at his feet, creating an odd, hushed tone. In the distance, he could see the mountainside, the forest, the future. But even though his eyes roamed, a blind image was within his mind, for all thoughts were on the smooth, cold object in his hand. The solid gold, seeming innocent ring, that he now despised so feircly it hurt.  
  
Frodo could not tell how long he had had it now, for how much longer he could stand to look at it. The landscape provided a convient distraction, but not for long. His whole future was before him; and the solitary choice of what to do next. The river Anduin held no answers, no hope.  
  
He stood for a good many minutes more, feeling each moment strike a cold hurt into his heart. Tears were slipping from his eyes, splattering upon his dark emerald cloak. He could not tell why, but a great sadness was within the trees, the water. Finally, he came to his decision. The thought he had dreaded ever since starting out from The Shire; the thought of travelling to the horrible terrain of Mordor alone. But still, he had no choice.  
  
Swiftly, quickly, he returned the ring back to his pocket, and stepped forth. There was no turning back now, no casting the ring simply into the water and forgetting it forever. That path was never open anyway.  
  
Frodo pushed one of the boats moored at the bank into the river, determindly casting his gaze forward. Behind him, he could hear Sam's distants shouts. Much as he wanted to, he refused to look back, instead focusing his attention on rowing.  
  
Presently he heard his friend call much more louder, most likely having reached the bank. As much as it hurt, Frodo refused to go back. It was unfair to put his friend in so much danger, over a burden that had never been his. This was Frodo's task, and Frodo's alone.  
  
'No Sam,' he whispered.  
  
He heard the sloshing of water, and spun around, despite himself.  
  
'Go back Sam!' he yelled. 'I'm going to Mordor alone!'  
  
'Course you are!' his friend shouted back, now waist deep in the water. 'And I'm going with you!'  
  
'You can't swim..'  
  
Sam was now flailing, sinking, and fast.  
  
Frantically, Frodo yelled his name, turning the boat around. With a deep dread beating inside, he rowed as hard as he could, to the place of his friend's last gulp of air. He could not bear to think, more then he could ever fear risking Sam's life, of him dying now, right here.  
  
'Sam!'  
  
Reaching his hand into the cold, sharp water, he scanned the surface quickly. What if he had lost his best friend, another tragic victim of the ring in his pocket.  
  
Suddenly, he felt flesh against his hand, and gripped it tightly, as hard as he could. Pulling, he soon had a firm grim, and drew Sam up, gasping for air. In a moment's time, he had him in the boat. There was a moment of panic, when Frodo had to steady both his friend and the now rocking dangerously boat, but a moment later, all had calmed breifly, though his friend was still spitting water, and now, it looked like, crying.  
  
'I made a promise, Mr Frodo, a promise,' he spluttered. 'Don't you leave him, Samwise Gamgee, and I don't mean to, I don't mean to.'  
  
Frodo felt tears come to his own eyes as he listened. The seeming never- ending pain in his heart flared up again, for both pity and compassion. Sam looked so dejected, sitting, drenched in the boat. And yet, Frodo felt, he almost could not let him come, deep into danger, which they both may never return out of.  
  
'Oh Sam..'  
  
But then, he could not refuse. He doubted Sam would go back, even if he pleaded. But it was so wrong, and he hugged his friend suddenly, feeling as if the choice was not even his.  
  
'Come on,' he said finally, letting go.  
  
That seemed like years ago, Frodo mused, staring up. The night was cold, swift, and all around them. Laying at the very foot of Mount Doom, he felt a pressure much harder then that the simple one of darkness. It was upon him, suffocating him, pressing into his existance.  
  
He turned onto his side, trying to get comfortable. A dark curl cut into his vision of the remaining glow of fire, but he could not bring himself to lift his arm, brush the wayward strand of hair back. In the gentle dancing light, he could see Sam, across from him, snoring gently. His friend looked peaceful, almost as if he was back home in the Shire.  
  
Frodo closed his eyes, fighting both weariness and weakness. They had but crumbles left of the Lembas, and although Sam sacrificed his own share for him, he still felt life ebbing away, like a trickle of water from a blocked stream. And yet; he dared not bring himself to sleep, for a haunting nightmare had hunted him for the past nights, awakening him in the middle of the night drenched in a cold sweat.  
  
Nothing stirred; nothing moved. Darkness was like a cloak in Mordor; stilling all signs of life, if there ever was any. Even the wind dared not to whisper.  
  
Frodo couldn't stand it anymore. He lay a few moments more, gathering his strength, then rose up, swayed, and was forced to crouch down. After the dizziness passed, he stood up again, groaning softly, but making sure he did not wake Sam. Somehow, he felt ten times worse then before, but he could not let his friend know it.  
  
A fear danced within him, but he forced himself to move. He did not know why; but to walk, he must.  
  
Taking a few steps forth, he found it slightly more easier then he had expected. He was cold; but it was not a sharp feeling, but bearable, and awakening. Although lack of food had seen him loose more weight then before, (Sam often commented he found it impossible to look at his master, for so thin was he) Frodo did not surrounder to his body's protest at the sharp forcefullness, but rather lifted his eyes and stared ahead.  
  
He had taken a good ten steps, left the glow of the fire behind him, so that he was almost in full darkness, when Frodo suddenly felt something. It was not big, nor was it the wind. The hobbit paused, re-coiled back, and let out a low gasp.  
  
There was suddenly whispers coming from all around him. They mixed together, untangled, so that they were almost un-audible. Frodo stumbled back, lost his footing, and fell onto the hard ground. He felt his bones jarr painfully, and a shot of extreme hurt was spreading like fire in his body. But he could not scream, was frozen in fear, as an un-named terror murmered all about him.  
  
Then, in his breast pocket, he felt the ring stir. It was almost as if it moved, and Frodo felt himself draw a hand to it, egged on, it seemed, by the voices. His fingers clasped about it, the cold, round object.  
  
He was drawing it out; frozen, yet moving, as in a dream.  
  
"It's over," he thought, captivated with watching his arm move by itself, still too shocked to utter a word. "Sauron has won."  
  
Then, suddenly, a sharp sound broke through the whispers, the dream-like state. It was Sam, yelling his name.  
  
Frodo wanted to reply, but could not, would not, his lips refused to obey.  
  
Then, he felt his friends arms around him, felt himself be lifted from the ground, the ring re-placed firmly in his pocket.  
  
'No!' he screamed. At the same time, he let out a groan, before clinging to Sam's shirt. There was a ringing in his ears, his vision swam, and then, everything went black.  
  
Pwease, pwease review? I'll be grateful for the rest of existance.. silver-tear-crystals 


	2. Voices

Slowly, the world was coming back to light. First, he could only see the dim outline of a huge mountain, the sky sheilding it's torents high above. Then, another figure came into view. It was crouching over him, repeating his name.  
  
It took Frodo a few moments to realize where he was; in Mordor, and the great mound before him was Mount Doom. The figure was Sam, Sam, who had finally cut through the terrible whispers sourounding him.  
  
'Mr Frodo?'  
  
'What happened?' he so badly needed a drink; he realized, upon speaking. 'Water..'  
  
Sam disapeared then, leaving him to gaze up into the sky. Clouds were swirling, like always, covering darkness with darkness. It struck Frodo that- there was no point in day or night in this place.  
  
His friend returned in a moment's time with water, in a small, rounded flask. The moment it struck Frodo's lips he raised himelf slightly- and then lay back down, staring up ahead, breathing deeply.  
  
'Frodo?'  
  
'Sam, I, I.. couldn't sleep. I wanted to walk, so I got up and then.. then, there were these whispers, all around me. they were whispering things I could not understand.. and the ring, it, it.. called to me. I thought it was over, then you drove the voices away.. and..' he closed his eyes tightly.  
  
'I saw you standing, then you fell, and then, sort of went into a trance. I ran toward you, called your name.. but, I was afraid you couldn't hear me! Then I reached you, and you sort of stirred. You had the ring out, so I grabbed it and returned it to your pocket, picked you up. There was a moment when you seemed angry with me for taking it, then, you screamed, and.. and.. you fell unconcious.'  
  
Frodo looked up at him. 'It all seems to hazy.'  
  
'You should rest Mr Frodo. try and sleep, I'll keep watch. Are you hungry?'  
  
'It's been a long time since I've been hungry Sam,' the older Hobbit replied, turning on his side.  
  
It was a while before Frodo awoke; mid-day. They gathered their strength and started moving again, going slowly and purposefully. The now sloping land was getting harder and harder to accomplish- both were worrying about their position. Within a few hours they stopped for a serious break, though it seemed to Frodo they hadn't moved- everything looked exactly the same.  
  
'Do you remember Arwen, Sam?'  
  
The question came as a surprise- and Sam lifted his head with wide eyes, mouth open just a little. Frodo had hardly spoken at all for the last few days- and now his friend was enquiring about a subject with no immediate need for answering.  
  
'I do, sir,' he replied. 'Arwen and the Lady Galadriel..'  
  
'But Arwen. Do you remember the way she took me to Rivendell?'  
  
'Aye. We were all very worried. All throughout our journey there.' Sam lowered his eyes in thought. 'Mr Pippin kept asking the most undeeded questions- got us worried even more.'  
  
'It seems ironic,' Frodo was now looking up at Mount Doom, a clear, nameless fear on his face. It was a strange thing- he neither **feared** his fear, nor repulsed it. It was as if he simply accepted it. 'That she risked her life in vain. And all the others that did as well.'  
  
'What do you mean, Mr Frodo?'  
  
'I cannot do this.' The older Hobbit refused to look directly at Sam. 'I cannot. My body refuses to take another step, my mind won't let me. I was not meant for this, do you understand?'  
  
There was silence in reply, but Sam had shuffled forward, clearly nervous. 'I understand. I would take the ring if I could. But it was not meant for my hands..'  
  
'No! The ring will not befall anyone else's touch.'  
  
Frodo turned away then, and said no more, but after about 40 minutes firmly proclaimed they should move again. Sam breathed a sigh of relief- but still gave his friend concerned lookes now and then. He had not liked his master's tone.  
  
All sense of time left the two travellers. It may have been weeks, it may have been mere days, but at last, Frodo found himself in the very heart of Mount Doom, and Sam behind, intent on keeping Gollum away.  
  
Terror had seized them both long, long ago. Frodo felt the pressurized feeling grow heavier and heavier, and now he could not breathe, could not move, could not do what he had come to do. He saw Mount Doom, he felt it's heaving, but his senses would not reacte.  
  
**I have come this far.**  
  
His fingers would not move, would not take the ring out. The sounds all around him mixed.. he had but minutes.. or hours..  
  
**I have failed them all.. Aragorn, Elrond, Gandalf..**  
  
('Frodo...') The voice was not Sam's, but it brought the name's owner around. He flinched, gazed up, shrunk into himself. The whispers from so many nights before returned.. but only in his mind, for a deeper terror now lived. The voice continued talking, and all sense of place and creation finally left Frodo.  
  
('Frodo. The ring was never yours, never yours to touch or destroy. I would kill you, destroy you as you sought to destroy it, but I have ideas much bigger then you think. Come, I will make you my follower, my friend. Together, we will rule Middle-Earth.')  
  
His eyes closed, his limbs failed, and he fell to the floor of Mount Doom. No pain- no feeling, just the voice.  
  
('Give me the ring. Let me use it to make you wise, powerful. I know how to, Frodo.')  
  
He raised his hand with much wearyness, sought the ring..  
  
('That's it. Do not think of anything you have thought you knew. The other halflings do not matter. Every single creature you have met on your journey has been wrong.. for you are here, look, just within my reach. You came to me out of your free will.')  
  
His fingers clasped about the Ring..  
  
'Frodo!' the voice seemed from far off. Sam, he realized.  
  
('Do not think of him. He is nothing. I will destroy him.')  
  
'Yes,' he said. The ring now was within his palm, and he out-stretched his hand forward, eyes still closed..  
  
Whispers.. screams.. then nothing.  
  
__  
  
A/N Mwahaha.. Ok, well, it goes kinda sharply to Mount Doom, I know, but I couldn't help it. Just a side note- this will be heavy. I mean, no happy ending people. If you can't bear to see character torture, don't read on.  
  
But on a brighter note: if you've gotten this far, review!  
  
silver-tear-crystals 


	3. Sauron's Rise

When Frodo awoke, he found himself enshrouded with darkness. He could think normally- and remembered all that had happened, and found the ring no longer around his neck, nor in his breast pocket. A breif thought of Sam flew by, and his acceptance in destroying him, but he found himself only mildly worried for the other Hobbit.. whatever happened, would be the right choice.  
  
Wait, that wasn't right.  
  
Sam was his best friend. He should be worried, he should be **terrified**. He had agreed for him to be killed!  
  
But he wasn't.  
  
('Aaah.. Frodo. Do not let fear drive you.')  
  
'Where are you? Who are you?'  
  
('I am your downfall. Do you not recognize me? I sought you for so long. And now, thanks to you, I have immortalized. Do you wish to see me?')  
  
'Sauron.'  
  
('Yes.')  
  
'You.. you promised me power!' the voice seemed not his own, and Frodo re- coiled. 'Where am I?'  
  
('Deep within my strongholf ofcourse. My armies are grouping in an inslaught of Middle-Earth. When they enslave it- we will rule together.')  
  
The atmesphere changed then- and Frodo knew there was no point in replying, for Sauron was gone. Instead, he gazed about himself. Darkness met him, the frayed borders of a huge cavern. Frodo felt emotion trickle back into him; but at the same time, he felt no hunger, no thirst.. no shame of betrayal. He stood up and moved forth. Rough ground met his feet, and after about 400 metres.. the cavern ended and a smaller one opened up. At the end of it, he saw an opening. It was a huge hole in the wall: a lookout outside. Darkness was upon the sky, and the rest of Middle-Earth, as far as he could see, was dim. He could observe quite clearly armies of orcs marching outside of Mordor. He felt a twinge of something- this was his work. But at the same time, turned around and looked away. He was the cause of Middle-Earth's ruin..  
  
But why should he care.  
  
He should.  
  
'Stop it!' he finally screamed, sinking to the ground. His voice echoed breifly. 'I don't want ..' But he never finished his sentence, as a weak ray of light burst through the sky outside, landing on the cold grey floor, illuminating it. He stared at it motionlessly.  
  
Thoughts of his past life played before his eyes; The Shire, Bilbo, his friends and the Fellowship.. Gandalf. Galadriel and Elrond.. all those who had helped him.. and now were betrayed, stood against who had been their only hope.  
  
'Why should I care?' he whispered feircly. 'Who are they now.. great elven lords and ladies, too weak to withstand Sauron's power.. who could not fight themselves, made me take their journey for them.. suffer endlessly. But no more. I now will live in greatness and wealth.. I will no longer feel the heavy pressure on my heart..'  
  
He decided to think of it no more: since his thoughts brought just confusement and worry. Instead, he waited, waited for when he would be summoned, and his new life brought into existance.  
  
___  
  
Very short chapter. Sowwy! Kinda still deciding where to go from here, this story is always growing, and I dunno exactly where it will turn. Thankyou SO much for reviews! And on a final note - VERY sorry for spelling mistakes. The problem is, Dad set Word to not check documents for errors, or something like that, and in short, I'm not sure how to set it back.  
  
Silver-tear-crystals 


	4. The Fall of Gondor

The day had started as all other days start. Tanth'Quiel had gotten up, dressed, had skipped breakfast and run all the way through the dew- sprinkled grass barefoot to the stables. The girl lived and breathed equines: she would gladly spend the whole day amongst the horses rather then attend an important date or affair. Maybe, her lack of knowledge in the region of social activites was aided and abetted by the fact she had never been outside of Gonder: her parents were simple folk, lived quitely amongst their piece of land that had been passed down from generation to generation. Tanth'Quiel, none the less, had gotten a proper education and up-bringing: she was a polite girl (whenever forced away from the stables actually long enough to be seen by her parent's guests) and respected her elders and betters. She listened to whatever her mother told her, and believed that indeed her parents were the wisest people in Middle-Earth. True of all children. She had long, wavy, brown (almost black) hair that ran along her back, and finished in a fine wave of curls. Her eyes were green: speckled with gray, and were set amongst a rounded face. Her frame was lithe and lean.  
  
Now, she paused outside of the stable, which rested just left of her home. It was small: contained only ten horses, most of which were owned by folk such as Tanth'Quiel's parents. Infact, two **were** owned by them: Quira and Fenella. Quira was Tanth'Quiel's horse: a big, spirited black stallion, who required her attention every day and got over-excited most of the time. Fenella was much the same, though she was a white mare and belonged to Tanth'Quiel's father. They were a nice pair of horses, young and fresh, and just suited perfectly to the family they were owned by (though Tanth'Quiel's mother often commented they needed a older, slower type of horse).  
  
Now, Quira stuck his head with force out of his stall, greeted his owner with a energetic whinney and let fly a few bucks in his contained space. Tanth'Quiel walked right past him with a smile, turning into the feed room for his breakfast. 'Hold on, you big rascal!'  
  
Once she had fed both Quira and Fenella, she settled for brushing her stallion, despite his repeated efforts to yank the brush out of her hands. Tanth'Quiel laughed and swatted at him playfully. 'Stoppit!'  
  
Once she finally had him brushed and ready, Tanth'Quiel tacked him up. He had a big saddle: and she needed to stand on something to get her foot into the stirrups. Just as she was swinging up, Quira moved forth, right out of the stable and into the early morning light. Tanth'Quiel tipped her head back and pulled on the reins, rightening her position. 'You planned that, didn't you?'  
  
They rode forth at a walk, calmly and swiftly, even though every now and then the young girl's mount would throw his head up and prance sideways. She and he both could feel it: they had a bright, hot day ahead of them: summer was fastly approaching.  
  
Once they were out of the main housing area of Gondor, Tanth'Quiel headed for a huge field towards the back of her house. It took 5 minutes to get there: and when they did, Quira instantly fired up, prancing and refusing to walk: he was now half trotting. Laughing, his rider gave in and loosened the reins: the stallion shot forth, speeding up a canter all the way across the field, out into the open acre and then turning sharply to canter back up. Tanth'Quiel held him back. 'No, you've had your run, now we're going to do some proper riding.' She sat back and sucked in a breath of fresh air. Quira was not the only one who had enjoyed their breif jog.  
  
Within a few minutes she had her stallion trotting calmly around in circles upon the flat part of the field. Tanth'Quiel was intent on righting her posture in the sitting trot: she still wasn't up to scratch, and Quira had a bouncy gate.  
  
It was then that she noticed the sun fall behind clouds. It was sudden, as it happens, and the world dimmed just a little. Quira shook his mane out a little, snorted and ducked his head but continued out at a trot. Tanth'Quiel began posting again, then pulled her stallion back into a walk alltogether. She gazed up at the sky: it looked normal, except for a odd black mist that seemed to be rising. Tanth'Quiel blinked, gaped, and was suddenly compelled to urge her mount into a trot and back up the field: home.  
  
They were half way there when the first cries rang out: yells of Men. In them, Tanth'Quiel could make out foreign words, elvish no doubt:  
  
'Mornie Utulie! Take heed!'  
  
She had no idea what this meant, but Quira was almost cantering now, his ears land back, his nostrils flaring. He was **scared**.  
  
When they reached the stable, Tanth'Quiel untacked her horse in record time, and had him back in his stall. She ran up to her house, where her mother was waiting anxiously on the porch. 'Tanth!' she cried. The young girl found herself being ushered into their home, as behind, the sky darkened and gloomed.  
  
'What's happening?' she demanded, following her mother into the main room, where her father and younger brother were waiting, sat nervously in chairs around the table.  
  
Her father looked up gravely. A sadness was swimming in his gray eyes. 'Darkness is falling.'  
  
Once Tanth'Quiel learned of the whole story, she almost wasn't sure she could believe it. But these were her parents telling it, and she was finally forced into the truth.  
  
'A ring of power,' she whispered to herself.  
  
Her father stood up. He was a tall man: with light hair and facial stubble. His eyes were clear and faithful. 'I have dredded this day. Gonder is so weak with the way our royal attendance stands.'  
  
'He will come back, I know he will,' his wife said softly. Tanth'Quiel had no idea who they were talking about.  
  
Her younger brother, Darres, bit his lower lip. 'Mommy, daddy? Whats going to happen?'  
  
Arrala scooped her son into her arms and nuzzled his hair. 'Everythings going to be fine sweety. We're going to continue living the way we always have.'  
  
Tanth'Quiel wasn't so sure.  
  
It was weeks before anything changed. The middle of the night had Tanth'Quiel spring up from a deep sleep to find shouting and yelling outside. Metal against metal clanged, and horrid screams emmited here and there. She looked outside.  
  
A army of monsters were flooding the land. Most of Gonder were prevailed in the knowledge of fighting: and a true war was going on. Blood was shed from the same amount of orcs and humans, and weapons against weapons were put forth. Tanth'Quiel bit back a cry and struggled out of her blankets, and downstairs. Her mother was just rushing up, Darres in her arms.  
  
'Tanth!' she cried out. 'Your father's gone to withstand the forces of Sauron! Quick!' She grabbed her daughters hand and dragged her to the door. 'Listen to me. Gonder will fall, and all of us with it.'  
  
'No!'  
  
'Yes, Tanth. You must run. This land is not safe: you must go far, far away. The elves will provide you with a home: a long and hard ride is it there.' The woman looked down upon her son. 'Take Quira and go! Take Fenella as well, and put Darres upon her.'  
  
Tanth'Quiel wanted to protest: but was silenced as her mother ushered her upstairs. There, the young girl threw on something more sturdy and rushed back down. Scooping her brother into her arms she kissed Arrala on the cheek. 'Farewell mother. I love you.'  
  
Then, with a heavy heart, she was gone into the night.  
  
Arrows seemed to whiz right past her head, and every moment, Tanth'Quiel was sure was her last. However, night brought darkness, and the lights of lamps were lit to her side, where the actual fighting was taking place. Somehow, she managed to find her way into the stable.  
  
The horses were in a panic: they banged on their stalls and whinnied in terror. The usual soft, gentle smell of the stable was replaced by sweat and fear. Tanth'Quiel's heart cried out, but she went to Quira's and Fenella's stall only.  
  
She expected her stallion to be in a fit: the noise and sudden explosion of war had to be scaring him: but the black mount was huddled in a corner of his stall, ears pinned and head raised high. He startled when he saw his owner, and took a tentive step forward. Tanth'Quiel had him saddled in a instant.  
  
Fenella was in a much worser state, and was bucking and flinging up her head non stop. It took considerably more time to get her ready. Tanth'Quiel wasn't sure how she was supposed to put her 8-year-old brother on a crazed, wild horse, but the moment she did, Fenella calmed.  
  
Mounting Quira and gathering both horses reins, the girl started forth. They rode out of the stable and into the darkness: and whilst the black stallion melted into it perfectly, Fenella stood out with contrast, and they were forced to move quickly.  
  
All sense of direction was lost. Tanth'Quiel simply urged her horse into the night: and onward they both galloped. Darres started crying softly, but did not loosen his grip on the saddle and quickly contented himself with sniffing every now and then.  
  
What Tanth'Quiel did not know, was that, in her haste, and in her total lack of knowledge of the regions surrounding Gondor, she was heading straight for Mordor.  
  
___  
  
Silver-tear-crystals 


	5. The Verity of Sorrow

It was only when she reached the river Aunduin, that disastor struck.  
  
They had been living off whatever food their mother had managed to throw into a small sack that had been with Darres. Berries, often, came upon their journey, and Tanth'Quiel stained her hands bright red picking them. She had scratches all up her arm: but still worried often about their soon ending supply.  
  
It was upon one of these forages that she came back to find themselves surrounded by an army of orcs. Darres was crying: huddled to Fenella's leg, as one by one, the ugly creatures advanced for a closer look. There were only about 10 in the whole group: but they were just as menacing as 100 in Tanth'Quiel's case. It was her mistake to utter a cry; and they were seized.  
  
The head orc instructed with grunts and un-impressed snorts for the two to be tied together. Darres was much shorter then his sister and could not walk with one arm raised in the air. Tanth'Quiel had pleaded to be let to carry him, but the orcs only sneered and pressed their jarred spears deeper into her back. Quira and Fenella were led by another two; it was obvious the orcs valued their possesion.  
  
'Stay strong Darres,' Tanth'Quiel whispered. Her brother gave a whimper and in a loyal fashion pressed his small frame nearer to her leg, staring around with big eyes. Pretty soon they were moving onward.  
  
They crossed the river on boats towards midday. Once on the other side, their mad journey continued. The two mortal captees were kept at a brisk march, the two equines spurred constantly into a pace nearer to a trot. Every now and then one would buck and be whipped harder.  
  
It may have been weeks: Tanth'Quiel didn't know, but finally, she felt an un-comfortable breeze stir up, one that told of misfortune upahead. The air was thick now, and before them, great towering mounds loomed, with a peircing tower cutting through the grime. It took them a full days journey to get there: and they entered through the gap into a land more horrid then the girl had ever seen, even in nightmares.  
  
Mordor, she realized, remembering the stories. The land where Sauron dwelled.  
  
They stopped to rest at nightfall, set up camp. The two prisoners were thrown bread crusts and some dirty water in a flask (most of which was then sacrificed to Darres, as well as one, small piece to Quira and Fenella) and then all was still. Sleep overtook the orcs, and even Tanth'Quiel's guard dozed off.  
  
She sat in silence, in darkness, pulsing with fear. It seemed to close her eyes would be just as fearful as keeping them open. Mordor held her in it's grasp: terror was within every movement anyone took, within the charred breeze that roamed these lands, and the moon, hidden behind swirling mist.  
  
Tanth'Quiel had been un-bided from her brother upon entering Mordor. It seemed, the orcs guard had been rested in ease upon entering their own land, and they were now much more calmer. Now, all that was keeping the two young prisoners from freedom was ropes around their wrists and the two orcs ordered to keep watch.  
  
Tanth'Quiel seized her chance. She stood up, very slowly, breath held, fearing every motion could seal her fate. Tip-toeing to her brother, always keeping an eye on the rest of the orcs, she quickly picked him up into her arms. Together, they stepped back. Again. And again. Until they were about 100 metres from the orcs, whence Tanth'Quiel tripped.  
  
She fell without a cry: and with relief noted that no one had stirred. Picking herself up and putting Darres down, she looked upon the cause of her slip. As her eyes travelled, she noted the thick layer of dust and mud covering her clothes. [I must look like an orc myself] she thought.  
  
But was forced to hold down a gasp when she saw what was lying beneath her feet. A figure: small, silent, in the position that would sujest he was sleeping: one arm outstretched forth, one leg raised slightly to his belly. But he was not sleeping, he wasn't **breathing**.  
  
Tanth'Quiel knealt down and brushed a strand of his hair from his closed eyes. Soft, wavy, lightish locks opened up a rounded face. He looked almost peaceful: lying there so insignifcantly, and yet, with a haunted look set upon his features. The girl wished with all her heart to bring him back from his departure from life. There was something touching about this person she did not know.  
  
However, all further thought was interupted by a grunt: Tanth'Quiel spun around to find a orc shifting, then lifting his head. He blinked in the before-morning light, then sprung up, nudging the two nearest orcs beside him. 'The mortal's escaping!'  
  
Tanth'Quiel barely got to move, they were already upon her. 'No! Let me go!' She fought with arms and legs: but the grip around her shoulders was iron. A voice snickered in her ear. 'Thought to get away, pathetical mortal.'  
  
She looked around with anguish, only to find Darres gone. He was running across the land, followed closly by a pursuing orc. Upon her eyes, seeming in slow motion, the orc roared, fired an arrow, and Darres fell, went limp. She cried out, struggled, beat with all her might, but her brother lay un- moving, a child in his crib, sleeping, in her eyes.  
  
The landscape before her gloomed; she lowered her head as she was dragged back to the camp. Tears seeped through eyelids closed tightly: pain filtered throughout her heart. Darres was gone, really gone, and nothing could ever bring him back.  
  
It was the night whence Tanth'Quiel of Gonder found Samwise Gamgee lying upon the road, dead, and lost her own brother, that Frodo stirred in his cavern of darkness. He shifted from something much like a sleep: a state he had been in for almost two days now. Frodo was neither anxious nor jittery: time seemed to have no effect on him at all in Sauron's lair. He felt like he could spend the rest of eterenity in his prison: waiting to be called to power.  
  
He went to his lookout and stared. Middle-Earth was crumbling before his eyes: darkness creeping up into the land steadily. He felt somewhat shamed: but refused to give in to this, and turned away.  
  
He spent two more days in total silence, with no thoughts and emotion let through the wall he had barricaded himself in. He found, though, that bits of his past life he could not remember already: there was a place where he once lived, with plains and forests, and his.. uncle was it? And elves..  
  
No. No elves. Just Hobbits. Hobbits? What a silly name!  
  
He vaguely wondered what Hobbits were. Some, no doubt, weak and power-less race he had once met.  
  
At this moment, his train of thought was interupted, as something stirred. Two voices grew louder within his cavern: and in response, Frodo melted into the shadows, waiting.  
  
Two orcs.  
  
'So what do we do with this petty mortal thing?'  
  
'Lord Sauron said to put all captees in the North Cavern.'  
  
'Wasn't there someone here?'  
  
'Oh, yeah, the halfling.' A pause. 'Dunno what happened with him though, this cavern looks pretty empty.'  
  
'It gives me the creeps, let's just dump the girl.'  
  
'Let me **go**!'  
  
'Shuttup!'  
  
'Why was there only one prisoner here?'  
  
'How should I know?! All I've been told is there are some more coming from The Shire, and Rohan.'  
  
The two voices faded then, and Frodo blinked. In the light floating down from the lookout window, filtered to a pale gray, a figure was upon hands and knees, head beant downward. She looked like she was shaking with silent sobs: but that was all Frodo could tell. He shifted and stood in silence, watching.  
  
Her mop of curled, brown hair hung around her face, which Frodo could not see. She was small: yet lean, and a thought of 'men' floated by, but was disregarded.  
  
She raised her head and saw him. Flinging her body up, and onto her feet, she looked all but petrified. 'Who are you?!' her lips were set in a stright line: eyes wide with fear.  
  
She may have rivaled Galadriel's beauty for all the difference to Frodo. But as it happened, Tanth'Quiel was very simple for a mortal: her features could have been labeled 'charming' but not quite 'beautiful'. It was not the same she thought of him: he could have been very handsome once, with tightly curled black hair, and eyes the color of bright blue. Now, he seemed drained and pale.  
  
He uttered his name as if hearing it for the first time. 'Frodo.' And as an afterthought: 'Baggins.'  
  
The young girl re-coiled, and her features changed so drastically it seemed impossible. 'You're the betrayer!' she spat.  
  
'No, the wise one amongst fools.'  
  
'You're the cause of all this destruction. You're the cause of my brother's death, Gonder's anguish.'  
  
He stepped forth with a note of anger, and seemed paler then before. 'I acted as I should have. Do not try and imagine how much suffering I went through for the ring, and Middle-Earth, whilst it stood in rich comforts waiting for me to save them all. I gave up my life, everything, just because no one else could take the ring here, could not risk their own existance, rather send some useless. Hobbit. Why should I be the hero?! I never asked for this!' his voice was rising, and echoing oddly in the hollow crack of the cavern.  
  
'So,' she said furiously. 'You turned to selfish-ness in order to save yourself?'  
  
He gave no reply, swung around and disapeared into the shadows. Tanth'Quiel tilted her head to the light coming from the window and got up, went over the lookout and sat down, watching.  
  
______  
  
**cowers** I can only imagine the reaction from the wonderful people (THANKYOU, THANKYOU, THANKYOU, THANKYOU!) who've been reviewing this to Sam's death. In my own defense, I'd like to say, that this was how it was planned from the very beginning of the story and please don't hurt me. 


	6. Light

The two orcs came at exactly the time when the first rays of sunshine appeared over the horizon every morning. They brung bread and water for Tanth'Quiel: a pityfull and small share, intended only for her survival for the rest of the day, until the next dawn. Frodo never got anything: he did not seem to mind, either, it seemed, his strength was kept up by his own dreams and hopes.  
  
He watched her eat sometimes, but spent most of the time gazing outside, muttering things under his breath and waiting for words that never came.  
  
Tanth'Quiel had finally relented and spoke to him on occasions. She had tried to figure out his past: but he seemed not to remember, and just got angry. They, however, sat together every day, watching the sun set, a good distance apart, yet each thinking their own depressed thoughts.  
  
Darkness came swiftly: their view of the sun was dimmed, since it was indeed fading over Middle-Earth. They would go to their own side of the cavern and sleep. Or atleast, Tanth'Quiel would, she wasn't sure if Frodo ever slept.  
  
It was on such a juncture, when Frodo was getting up to brood in nighttime, whence his companion spoke. 'Frodo?'  
  
'Yes?' he turned his head and looked at her gravely, standing in the fading sunlight, bare footed and in tattered remains of clothes. Her hair was in knots and her face crestfallen. Weakness, he decided.  
  
'I was wondering,' a carefully-timed pause. 'Do you ever, miss freedom?'  
  
His face dawned. 'No. I have all I want here. I live in wait of bigger things.'  
  
'But fields green and wide, hot sunshine, cool waters..'  
  
Tanth'Quiel wasn't sure what she wanted to achieve: but stood in fragile delay, until he chose to answer.  
  
'Well, maybe a little.' His own weakness forced him to look down. 'But only when the last rays of light fade, and I wonder, what the new day will bring.'  
  
'But it never brings anything new?'  
  
'No, I suppose not. But the time will come.'  
  
Tanth'Quiel was sure he looked uncertain. It was then, whence darkness was finally taking over, she saw sorrow and greif, guilt and consience in the Hobbit. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, but was forced back into the curves of her face. [So he does feel something] she thought to herself.  
  
From then on their communication changed all together. Tanth'Quiel developed a feeling so strong for him, it was un-imaginable. She felt that there was a way to get him back from the black caverns of his existance that he had fallen into. Sauron had forgetten the Hobbit: and it left every path clear for her to steer the young mind back to goodness. Maybe, Middle- Earth's destructor, could also be it's rescurer.  
  
She was young herself, but felt she had taken on the role of carer for her companion. Often, she would sit him before the lookout, and tell him stories of Middle-Earth, legends she had heard and made up. Sunlight would flood the two, and the darkness in Frodo's eyes would stand stark against skin pale and ghostly. He would look upon her with a silent way that was his own thankyou, however, and warmth would flood a heart long since pained and greifed. All she was doing felt like it was worth it.  
  
At other times, she would not let him go into the shadows of their cavern, holding his hand, making him look into whatever chaste and peace she could still find in the world. Sometimes, it was the world outside, on a good day free of the settling gloom. Sometimes, she lifted his chin so that he was looking into her eyes: and hoped that he would find ataraxis in them, so that he would be brought back to light.  
  
Within a few days Frodo dawned. He talked more, smiled, even laughed sometimes. He spent his time mostly in the sunshine, rather then the shadows. Tanth'Quiel now shared her food with him, and color started to flood back to his face.  
  
'Tanth'Quiel?' they sat side by side right on the edge of the cavern lookout, watching a new horde of marching orcs flood the grey, sullen ground.  
  
She turned to face him. 'Yes?'  
  
'Have you.. have you ever been in the Shire?' his clear, summer-blue eyes were brought downward, and he seemed lost in thought.  
  
'No. I'm sorry. I can't help you remember the Shire. I've never been outside of Gondor, let alone anywhere that far.' A smile creeped onto her face. 'Until now, anyway.'  
  
The sun was lost behind clouds, and Tanth'Quiel gave a shudder.  
  
Un-expecedly her companion rose, and his figure was framed by the darkness outside in a strange way. He looked down upon her. 'I think it is time we prepare plans for escape.'  
  
'We are not held,' she answered, sweeping her hand to the sky outside. 'All we must do is descend these rocks..'  
  
Frodo's face dawned grim. 'It is not that easy, Tanth. Sauron is more clever then you can imagine. He knows you would try to escape, would not leave you in an open prison. I can only imagine if we so much as step onto the rocks outside we would be noticed and killed, or perhaps, it's not even possible..' He paused. 'Why didn't you try it earlier?'  
  
'What?'  
  
'Leaving.'  
  
She averted her eyes in thought. 'I pretty much expected it would not be that easy.'  
  
'Really?'  
  
'Yes.'  
  
'Well,' he shifted uncomfortably. 'Thankyou for staying, and, well, helping me.'  
  
'I did the best I could, the rest is up to you.'  
  
'I shall never be healed truly.'  
  
'I know.'  
  
He sat back down, looked at her. 'I cannot live with myself, I think. Now that I know what I have done.. I deserve death.'  
  
'Do not say that.'  
  
'I cannot help it.' A sad smile. 


	7. Choices

Light came; light went, and still, they dared not to try and escape. Tanth'Quiel nervously arose each morning to watch the sun rise, more dimmer and dirtier with each passing day. Frodo would sleep till late; and as Middle-Earth crumbled, he seemed to become stronger, gaining color into his chalk-white face, and smiling and laughing. The connection was eerily strong; and Tanth'Quiel never mentioned it, for firmly, she told herself, it was never there.  
  
Now, she stood on the brink of the huge lookout, staring at the aghast land before her. A cool breeze swayed her grimy hair; and with a wistful smile, she tugged it back. She couldn't remember the last time she had taken a bath, or ate properly, and all this contributed to the overall picture; they had to escape. Frodo too, had to leave Mordor as quickly as possible, or, he could once more diminish under Sauron's power. Turning, she searched for him.  
  
He was in the far corner, sitting upright and looking past her to the sky. Fear pulsed in his eyes, she realized, upon closer inspection. His face was darkened by the shadows, tilted to the stray light that dared to venture so far into the gloom.  
  
'Frodo?'  
  
'Yes?' To Tanth'Quiel, his voice sounded as if it were breaking, and she longed to comfort him, though she did not know how.  
  
'I think we should go.'  
  
'What?' He averted his eyes to her, staring.  
  
She was now walking; moving closer, yet shrinking back in his vision. Finally, she stood over him. 'Today, Frodo. We must leave Mordor as quickly as possible. I fear the cloak of night will not help much; we must hope for the best and run.'  
  
Frodo said nothing. He pressed himself back against the wall, as if willing to disappear through it. She held out her hand, her voice soft. 'Come on. We'll do this together.'  
  
It seemed like an eternity before he finally entwined his own fingers with hers, and stood, leaning heavily on her support. He was extremely thin, and still quite pale, and Tanth'Quiel realized; deathly afraid of what was coming.  
  
'Together.'  
  
___  
  
I know that this poor excuse for a chapter (Infact, I don't think it can even be called a chapter) no where near makes up for the huge time that I haven't written in, but I'll try and get more up soon! 


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